


In broad daylight

by nylux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, POV Sherlock Holmes, POV Third Person, Pining, Post-Season/Series 04, bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 12:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17560793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nylux/pseuds/nylux
Summary: When Sherlock finds John in bed with a woman, he has some difficulty adapting to the new situation.





	In broad daylight

Sherlock opened the door to John's flat using his own keys, trying to be as quiet as possible. John and Rosie loved to take it slow on John's day off, and Sherlock did not want to disturb a post-breakfast nap. Sherlock's visits on such days had become a habit over the past few months. Whenever the casework permitted, he liked to come by in the late morning to spend some time with the two Watsons. 

That day, however, something was out of the ordinary. Rosie's pushchair and outdoor clothes were gone. John's jacket and shoes, on the other hand, had been discarded in a haphazard way after having been used earlier. Sherlock could make out a faint noise coming from the other end of the flat. Stepping into the living room, he found two paper cups on the coffee table. Sherlock was about to go into full deduction mode when he heard a scream from inside John's bedroom. He walked over to see what was going on. When he opened the bedroom door, an onslaught of information rushed in. Sherlock's brain first processed the clothes strewn across the floor. Some pieces where John's, others, including a boot that was caught under the door, belonged to a woman.

Unsurprisingly, there was a woman in the room. She was naked, kneeling on the bed, arse up in the air, her face planted onto the mattress and covered by a mess of long, brown hair. Low, guttural moans emerged from beneath the pile of hair. Sherlock was no expert, but he has quite certain that this was the noise women made when they were recovering from an extremely powerful orgasm.

The person responsible for the woman's state was there too. Only then Sherlock became fully aware of John. John, equally naked, was kneeling behind the woman, deeply involved in what looked like the final moments of sexual intercourse. The bright daylight coming from the window exposed every feature of John's face. His eyes were half-closed, his brows furrowed in concentration. His mouth was half open, and he was panting heavily with each push as he was driving into the woman from behind. John was slightly hunched over the woman's back, his hands gripping her hips to keep her in place. The muscles of his buttocks contracted rhythmically as he pushed into her in short, hard strokes. Sherlock could see John's penis, long and thick, slide in and out of the woman's body - in and out of a very specific part of her. Sherlock had to blink to confirm: John was having anal sex and obviously enjoyed it.

A low-pitched noise coming from John made Sherlock look up at his face again. John's eyes were squeezed shut now, his mouth hung open. His whole body was trembling, the strokes now short and shallow. Sherlock could make out the exact moment John's orgasm struck. His face relaxed and he threw his head back, a series of moans escaping his mouth. His whole body shook as he rode out the waves. Eventually, John's movements slowed. 

"Wow," said the woman, without lifting her head. 

John took hold of his softening penis to keep the condom from slipping off. He was preparing to collapse on the bed when he became aware of Sherlock's presence.

"What the...," John began.

"Oh hi, who are you?" The woman had lifted her head, an amused grin on her face.

"Where is Rosie?'' Of all the things he could have said or done, this was what Sherlock's useless brain managed to come up with?

"Well, obviously not in here, Sherlock!"

It was John's typical mix of anger and sarcasm that brought Sherlock back to his senses. He turned on his heels and fled the scene. He was halfway through the flat when he noticed the tight feeling in his trousers.

"Oh, for god's sake," Sherlock muttered to himself.

He rushed out into the street, wrapping his coat around himself to hide the evidence of his arousal.

*****

"Baker Street," the cabbie said, turning around to face Sherlock. 

Sherlock had no memory of the ride home. He handed over the requested amount and left the cab. His phone buzzed.

_Sorry about before. Rosie is with Molly. Talk to you later._

Sherlock entered the building and stormed past a hastily retreating Mrs. Hudson. He kicked the living room door shut behind himself, yanked his coat onto the coffee table, threw himself into his chair, and stared accusingly at John's seat across from him.

So the inevitable had finally happened. John had a new girlfriend. John had a new girlfriend and had vigorous sex with her. Vigorous _anal_ sex. In broad daylight, right in front of Sherlock. While his poor baby daughter had been banned from her home. John had a new girlfriend and had not mentioned it to Sherlock. And now that Sherlock had found out, John had written a text message, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. 

Sherlock was not stupid. He had expected this to happen sooner or later. John was a catch: physically attractive, middle-aged doctor, devoted father, and for all Sherlock could tell from the very recent first-hand, or rather second-hand, experience, a sex god. No wonder that every boring teacher, every sexually frustrated divorced house wife, every career woman with a ticking biological clock, every psychotic assassin-turned-nurse-turned-assassin was after John. 

Sherlock knew that history would repeat itself, preferably without him being shot in the heart this time. John wanted to have a family and a stable home for Rosie. To be honest, Sherlock had hoped that it would not happen at all. He had hoped that John would be as content with their life as Sherlock had been up to this morning. Of course, Sherlock's rational mind knew that he was fooling himself. A new woman in John's life was to be expected, and now she was there. End of story.

If only Sherlock had found out in a less explicit way. The whole scene kept replaying in his mind. And why in hell did they have to have anal sex? Didn't this woman have a vagina? If John liked this sort of thing, why did he have to do it with her and not...? 

Thankfully, Sherlock's phone buzzed before he could finish the thought. It was an email from Sergeant Monroe (for some reason his nickname was Marilyn), a new member of Lestrade's team. He requested help on a case. Sherlock took a brief look through the file attached to the message and shook his head. Barely a Two, maybe even a One. It had become a recent fashion among London's criminals to report the crimes they had committed to the police in order be excluded as possible suspects. It worked remarkably well with the idiots from NSY.

Sherlock grabbed his coat and hailed a cab. Half an hour later he was in Monroe's office. The young sergeant seemed surprised to see him. Sherlock took the case file from the desk and started to explain.

On his way out Sherlock ran into Lestrade.

"Oh hello Sherlock, what are you doing here?"

"Case," Sherlock muttered and kept walking. He was not in the mood to talk to Lestrade.

"What case? I don't know of any case." He paused for a moment to think. "You don't mean Marilyn's thing, do you?" Sherlock walked faster.

Lestrade took hold of his arm. "Let's talk for a second."

He pulled Sherlock into his office and closed the door behind them.

"Did you really just solve Monroe's case for him? He was supposed to do that himself! It was trivial! My whole department has given up on thinking. Instead, they contact Sherlock Holmes. What was it? A Four?" 

"Barely a Two,'' Sherlock corrected. Only Lestrade could believe this sad excuse for a case was a Four.

"A Two? And you came here for that? If anything, you should have told Marilyn that he's an idiot. Would have been well-deserved for once."

Lestrade was shaking his head in disbelief, when suddenly his expression changed to concern.

"Sherlock, is something wrong?"

"Of course not," Sherlock said and turned to leave. Lestrade did not stop him.

It was late in the afternoon. The streets were jammed with traffic. Sherlock decided to walk. He noticed a missed call from John and ignored it. He meandered through the streets of London until the sun was setting, ignoring two more calls from John and one from Lestrade. He bought some chips on the way back to Baker Street, ate them while walking, and went straight to bed.

******

The next morning Sherlock woke with a raging erection. Giving his cock an experimental squeeze, he concluded that there was no chance he could ignore it until it went away. He rolled his eyes and made his way to the bathroom to take care of it. As he walked past his bedside table, he noticed two more missed calls on his phone.

In the bathroom, Sherlock turned on the shower and stepped into the stream of hot water. He wrapped his right hand around his rigid cock, leaned forward, and pushed his left had into the tiled wall for support. Closing his eyes, he allowed the images that had haunted his dreams to play out in his mind: images of John's face as he chased his orgasm, images of John's cock sliding in and out of a body that should have been Sherlock's. He heard the noises John made as he came, saw the straining tendons in his neck as he threw his head back in ecstasy. He wanted John to shout his name, but could not make it happen in his mind. 

Still, it was over within minutes. Sherlock came so hard he even blacked out for a moment. Once he was able to catch his breath, he rinsed the remains of his orgasm off the tiles. He proceeded to wash himself thoroughly, stepped out of the shower and dried himself off with a towel. He moved to the mirror in order to take care of his hair, as he usually did. Instead, he ended up sitting on the toilet, his face cradled in his hands.

"Shit," he said to himself.

It took Sherlock an indefinite amount of time and a lot of energy to get up and finish his morning routine. Dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, he stepped into the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson had not brought up tea yet - it had to be very early. He moved to the kettle to make some himself.

While he was waiting for the water to boil, he weighed his options. He knew that he would have to face John at some point. Sherlock did not find it realistic to act as if nothing had happened. He was a great actor, but in his current state he did not believe that he could pull this off. Also, John would not let him do this anyway, not after Sherlock had reacted the way he had.

The reasonable and grown up thing would be to tell John about his feelings in a calm and matter-of-fact way, to explain that this would not jeopardize their friendship and to wish him all the best with his new girlfriend. If he was lucky, John would understand, and maybe Sherlock would get to plan another wedding. After a year or two, John would have his second child, move to the country side to open his own practice, while Sherlock would turn into an old shrew, with only his brother to keep him company.

There had to be other options. Sherlock could pack his things and simply disappear from London without a word, perhaps go back to the Buddhist monastery he visited years ago. Or, he could stage his own death. That had not worked so well last time, though.

Sherlock moved to his chair and sipped on his tea. He needed to distract himself somehow. There was nothing on the website. Also, he did not want to risk running into Lestrade again. This man had chosen the worst possible moment to start being observant.

Distraction finally came in the form Sherlock had feared. Downstairs, Mrs. Hudson welcomed John and Rosie. Two minutes later, John entered the flat - alone.

"Rosie and Mrs. Hudson are going to the zoo," he explained without greeting Sherlock.

Sherlock said nothing.

"I think we have to talk about what happened yesterday," John continued. He moved to sit down in his chair.

Sherlock looked over at John who was now staring at him expectantly.

"I don't think there is anything to talk about. I walked in on you and this woman. It was awkward. That's all."

John reached for his pocket to retrieve his phone.

"Yes, that's what I thought too, until I got this message from your brother yesterday night."

He handed the phone to Sherlock.

_John, whatever happened in the last twelve hours, go to Baker Street and fix it immediately._

"This is not the whole story," John said, as Sherlock returned the phone without a word. "I was just about to call your brother to ask what happened, when Greg called me. He told me you had come to New Scotland Yard for a Two. So yes, we definitely have to talk."

He paused and looked straight at Sherlock. "I have been wondering all night why this upset you so much."

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I was just surprised that you didn't tell me you had a girlfriend." So much was true.

"Oh," John said with a sheepish grin, "but I don't have a girlfriend. If I had, you'd probably know before me."

"No?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. That was news to him.

"No, definitely not." 

This did not make any sense. Sherlock's curiosity kicked in.

"John, this woman was clearly not a prostitute. Are telling me you just picked a random woman in the street and had sex with her?"

John shook his head and laughed. "You may not believe it, but yes, this is pretty much what happened. And, for the record, she picked me."

Sherlock waited until John continued. 

"It was actually a bit surreal. Molly had insisted on taking Rosie, said that I needed some time for myself. So I went to the coffee shop to get some breakfast, and well, there was this woman in the queue behind me. They had some technical problems, and we had to wait for quite some time. So we chatted a bit, and it was nice, and both or us seemed to be in the same mood..."

"In heat and desperate to mate," Sherlock supplied.

John shot him an annoyed glance. "Yeah, I guess you could say so. Anyway, once we got our coffees, she asked if she could join me. And, well, you know how it ended."

Yes, Sherlock knew that very well. It had been painted in graffiti all over his mind palace. John was playing it down. This woman would be back at John's doorstep in no time, begging for more. 

"Sherlock."

John paused. He swallowed and cleared his throat, as he always did when he was getting ready to give a prepared speech on something he considered a difficult subject.

"Sherlock, I've had the whole night to think about this, and I don't want this to change anything. You know, I like sex and I did not get much of it lately. So there was the chance for this casual encounter, and I took it, and it was something I needed, and it was good. What I don't need at the moment is a girlfriend. Because, to be honest, I'm actually quite content with the way things are, and I don't want this to change. What I really want is for you to keep coming over to our place, because we like to have you there. So, please don't stop doing that because of what happened yesterday." 

Sherlock did not know what to say to this. It looked like John had provided him with a way out of this mess. Things could be the way they always had been. This was supposed to be good. But somehow it was not. Now that Sherlock had seen this side of John with his own eyes, he could not just ignore it. As a matter of fact, he wanted it for himself, had wanted it for a long time. Until the day before, sex and John had been an abstract concept to Sherlock. Having witnessed the real thing left him with a desire that he did not know how to handle. 

"Sherlock, say something, please." John looked concerned. 

"You seemed to enjoy yourself."

John appeared to be surprised at Sherlock's comment.

"Yeah, I did. So did she. It was a pretty decent shag, I would say."

"So why not do it again?" It was an honest question. Sherlock did not understand.

"Well, for once, she made it very clear that it was a one-time thing. I suspect she is in a relationship. And you know, at my age and with Rosie around most of the time, the chances of something like this happening again with someone else are practically non-existent."

Sherlock knew that John was wrong about the last thing. Women usually took an interest in John, and John knew how to flirt. He would have no problem finding other women for casual sex.

"I am sure you'll have other opportunities," Sherlock said.

"Yeah, we'll see. As I said, I am not looking for anything at the moment." John smiled at Sherlock. "So, are we okay? Can be go back to normal?"

Sherlock was not okay. All this new information and what it did to him was too much to handle. The best course of action would be to end the conversation, to allow time to settle things, and to continue as ever. After all, this was what John wanted. 

"Alright." Sherlock said and nodded. 

John raised his eyebrows in concern. "You know, this does not convince me. Is there anything else? It's okay if there is."

"Why did you have anal sex with her?" Sherlock blurted out. 

John shrugged, unfazed by Sherlock's bluntness.

"She asked for it. Some girls like it. I haven't had the chance for awhile, so I was happy to comply. It's different, but it's really good. Brought back some fond memories from the army days." 

Sherlock blinked. "The army?"

John blushed a little. 

"Yeah. I have to say, I was not really picky when it came to sex back in those days. I took every chance that presented itself. Got me quite a reputation. Girls do like soldiers. But the thing is, out in the desert, you won't find that many. But," John looked Sherlock straight in the eye, "there are other opportunities, and I found that I enjoyed them just as much as the girls." 

Sherlock was desperate. Every chance for "back to normal" had just gone out of the window. He would not be able to delete this information. Ever.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" John looked worried. "Did I say too much? I did not want to shock you or anything. You asked, and it's no problem for me if you know these things."

Sherlock was well aware that the problem was on his side. A year ago, he would have disappeared into his room for an epic sulk. But a lot had happened. John and Sherlock were different people now. They had been through some of the worst experiences of their lives, and they had survived. Together. Sherlock did not want to risk the new trust they had in one another by not being honest. 

"John, I think you are misunderstanding because you lack some information. What I saw yesterday or what you just told me did not shock me. It just made me realize that this is something I want for myself."

John's eyes widened. 

"What I mean is...," Sherlock swallowed, "What I mean is that I want this for myself. With you. Wanted it for a long time. When I saw you with that woman yesterday, I saw how good it could be. I wanted to be in her place. And now you are telling me you have done this with men. John, this changes everything, and I don't know how to deal with it. I am sorry if this..."

"We can do that."

"What?"

"Sherlock. We can do that. I've never thought you would...," John was shaking his head in disbelief. "God, we're two idiots."

Sherlock could not quite believe it either. "You mean..."

John was beaming. "Anything, really. Anytime. Right now if you want." 

Sherlock still was not clear what this implied. "You mean you want to do with me what you did with her?"

"Yes, for example. If you'd like that. It would be a bit different though."

"Well, obviously, yes." Sherlock was aware that he had a penis and no breasts and that his voice was lower.

"No, Sherlock." John laughed. "Not that. What I meant to say is that with you it would not be a meaningless shag."

Sherlock let that sink in for a moment. "Meaningful is fine for me."

"Alright. Meaningful it is."

They stared at each other. Could it really be that simple?

"So?" John asked after a long pause. 

"Now is good." Sherlock said. "I can't get this out of my mind anyway."

"And you want to do what you saw yesterday?"

"Yes, I think I do. Is this okay?"

"More than okay." John grinned. "Just one thing before I drag you to the bedroom."

John got up from his chair and leaned over to give Sherlock a chaste, lingering kiss. It took Sherlock a moment to realize what was going on. It was almost over before he could react and kiss back. His whole body was on fire from this simple gesture. 

"We'll come back to this later. Now, however, ..." John pulled Sherlock out of his chair "I'll do my best to fuck you senseless."

Sherlock let himself be led to his room. John closed the door behind them and faced him.

"Alright. We'll need some supplies." He reached for his wallet. "I have a condom. Do you have lube?"

Sherlock walked over to bedside table to retrieve the bottle and threw it on the bed. "Do we need the condom?" he asked.

"No, we don't," John said, "but it would practical to use it, at least for the first time. It will be more comfortable for you, you know, after. Also, it might make me last a bit longer." 

Sherlock understood. He was glad that John was taking the lead. John had not asked about his history, but it seemed that he had come to the right conclusions. 

Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"Great." John smiled. "I think we're good to go."

Before Sherlock could react, John had crossed the distance between them and pulled down Sherlock's head for a kiss that was nothing like the one they had shared in the living room. It was a full assault on Sherlock's senses. He could barely keep up. Lips, tongue, teeth - John did not hold back, and Sherlock loved it. He tried to give back as best as he could and got so aroused in the process that he wondered if he would make it to the end.

"This is fantastic," John moaned while he kissed along Sherlock's neck. "Let's get you out of these clothes."

He started to work on the buttons of Sherlock's shirt and almost sent Sherlock over the edge when he closed his mouth over one of Sherlock's nipples. Trying to do the same to John, Sherlock struggled to get John's jumper out of the way. The whole endeavor of undressing each other turned out to be somewhat uncoordinated, so they resorted to taking off their own clothes.

Eventually, they ended up standing naked next to Sherlock's bed. Sherlock took a moment to take a closer look at John's more than half hard cock. John seemed pleased with this and gently stroked along Sherlock's side.

"Sit on the bed, will you?" Sherlock complied, and John followed suit, grabbing the bottle of lube.

"Do you still want to do it this way?" John asked.

Sherlock wanted nothing more. "Yes," he whispered.

"Brilliant!" Sherlock loved John's enthusiasm. "Then we need to prepare you. Do you ever use your fingers on yourself?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Okay, I think it would be best if you started with what you are used to. It will make it easier for you to relax."

Sherlock felt exposed. He had never considered the possibility of someone being present while he was doing this to himself.

"Is it a bad idea?" John asked.

"Unexpected."

"Not good?"

"I don't know. Will you be watching?"

"If you let me, I'd love to. I won't be giving you marks. I'll just sit here and enjoy the view."

Sherlock decided to trust John on this. He slid down until he was lying flat on his back. His erection, though it has faded a little, stretched against his belly. He spread his legs and reached for the lube. John repositioned himself to lie on his side next to Sherlock. That way Sherlock got a good view on John's cock. He wondered if this was on purpose.

Covering two fingers with lube, Sherlock reached behind his balls. Normally, he would think of something that he found arousing, mostly John, and go to work on himself as efficiently as possible. Oddly enough, it felt wrong to think about John now that he was in the same room with him. Sherlock was at a loss. The problem solved itself as soon as he began circling his hole with his fingers. John's reaction was immediate. His breath hitched, and his cock twitched and plumped out visibly. Sherlock continued, and pushed a first finger inside. He spread his legs further in order to give John a better view. It started to feel good. Out of habit, he touched his cock and testicles with the other hand.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock. Do you have any idea how hot this is?" John was slightly out of breath. He reached for his own cock to give it a quick stroke and pull back the foreskin. This in turn further sparked Sherlock's arousal, and he pushed in a second finger. 

"God, I have to stop watching, or we won't get anywhere near where we want to get." John groaned. "Do you mind if I help a bit?"

Sherlock removed his fingers and waited to see what John had in mind. John sat up and knelt between Sherlock's legs. He lubed up his fingers.

"Ready?"

"Please."

John breached him with two fingers at once and found his prostate straight away. Sherlock arched off the bed at the sensation. John stroked him with careful precision, mindful not to overstimulate. Every nerve in Sherlock's body seemed to be on fire. He pushed down onto John's fingers. John added a third and stretched him gently. It already felt better than anything he had ever done to himself.

"Now John, please." Sherlock was more than ready. 

"Yes, let's do it." John looked up at Sherlock. "Do you want to turn over? We can also try face to face. It's more difficult, but it's an option." 

Sherlock positioned himself in the same way he had seen the day before. Somehow it was important to him that it happened like that. It was ridiculous, but Sherlock wanted to overwrite John's previous experience with this one.

John stroked over Sherlock's back and placed a gentle kiss on his coccyx. He heard John fidget with the condom and the lube. He held on to Sherlock's hips and placed his cock between Sherlock's arse cheeks.

"Ready?" John asked, his voice strained. 

Sherlock braced himself for impact. "Yes."

John reached between them with his left hand to align himself and pushed. Nothing could have prepared Sherlock for the feeling of John inside of him - full and hot and tight, every tiny motion sent shivers through his body. Sherlock's cock was throbbing and leaked copiously onto the sheets. Once John was all the way in, he reached around to grab Sherlock's cock. Sherlock instinctively pushed forward.

"Can I move?" John asked.

Sherlock pushed against him in reply. John withdrew an inch and pushed back in with quite some force. He groaned as he picked up speed. Each stroke pushed Sherlock's cock into John's fist. There was no way Sherlock could quantify the pleasure he was feeling. He was quickly losing control, his moans muffled by the mattress.

And then it happened. John, sounding almost as gone as Sherlock was, moaned Sherlock's name, and suddenly everything Sherlock had never even dared to imagine became reality. He came hard, come spraying over John's fist, while John kept pushing through the waves of Sherlock's orgasm. Sherlock felt John's cock get even thicker and harder. It only took a few more forceful strokes before John came too, clinging to Sherlock's body as he continued to push into him. Sherlock, reduced to a quivering mess, would have come again, if he'd had any energy left.

John rested his head on Sherlock's back for a moment, then reached under Sherlock so that they both dropped onto their sides. Quickly discarding the condom, John pushed himself against Sherlock's body from behind and kissed his shoulder blades.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"Regrets?"

"No."

"Good."

The lay side by side for some time. Sherlock's brain was slowly coming back online - and it had questions. 

"What is going to happen now?" he asked.

John did not seem to be in the mood for serious conversation. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm making plans for round two." 

Sherlock smiled and leaned into John. Round two did sound intriguing.

"Well, maybe we should not, not right away at least," John said, more serious now. "I have no idea what time it is. I would rather not have Rosie and Mrs. Hudson walk in on us."

Sherlock reached over to look at his phone. It had been two hours. "I guess we should get up."

"Yeah, I suppose we should." John began to disentangle himself from Sherlock, stopping for another kiss. 

"You know what? Why don't you come with us?" John whispered between kisses. "I'll cook us something nice and we can discuss, well..., all this. And you can stay overnight if you want. You know, for round two."

Sherlock had no objections.

*****

Three days later, Sergeant Monroe got an email from Sherlock, suggesting a career in garbage disposal. Greg was relieved.


End file.
